


Temptation

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Lamen Week 2020 [2]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Dom/sub, Implied Bloodplay, Implied Sexual Content, Leather, M/M, implied bondage (if you squint), implied breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: It's a Saturday night like any other Saturday night at "Palace", the high-calibre, yet notorious BDSM club, and Damen, energized and confident, is ready to make the most of it. When he spots someone new in the crowd, he is deliciously tempted and neither willing nor able to resist the tempation that is Laurent.Written as a contribution to#lamen week 2020on tumblr - prompt Day 2: Modern!AU.
Relationships: Damen & Nikandros (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Lamen Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797085
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54
Collections: Lamen Week 2020





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for the beta, Carrie!! <3

„Who’s that?“

Casually leaning back against the bar on his elbows, the bar’s counter top firm against his bare back, Damen points across the room with his chin, in the direction of the other bar, the one near the entrance where a young man in black leather pants and a flowing black silk shirt is standing, gracefully arranged against one of the club’s floor to ceiling columns. His slightly narrowed eyes are carefully scanning the room, as if he’s looking for something. Or for someone.

The music is a little too over the top for Damen’s taste, but then again, he likes the way the low beats vibrate through his body, a steady pulse of energy, warming him up for what he’s here for tonight. The drink he’s sipping on is good, and Nikandros is standing right next to him, his best friend and his wingman ever since the days of their early youth, a huge grin spreading on his face at Damen’s casual question.

They both take a sip from their glasses, and Nikandros makes a vague gesture with the glass in his hand.

“Nobody really knows who he is,” he says, his grin broadening. “Yet. He’s new. Name’s Laurent, though. Makedon told me.”

Damen nods. Of course, Makedon would know. Friend, confidant and silent partner of “Palace”’s owner Theo, Makedon has been the bouncer at “Palace” for as long as Damen can remember, and he usually knows everything worth knowing about everyone who’s inside the club at any given time. He’s very good at his job, very proficient, so of course he would know.

“Laurent…” Damen tries the name on his tongue and licks his lips. It tastes like more.

“Like what you see?”

Damen lets his eyes roam over Laurent’s face and body once more. Blond hair, pale skin, blue eyes, features you could cut glass with, a lean but firm body underneath those clothes that still leave a lot to the imagination. Laurent is the embodiment of perfection like this. Sharp, wired, brimming with tempting provocation. Begging to be owned, begging for anyone to dare and rise to the challenge he poses. Dying to kneel despite the subtle defiance he radiates. Despite the way he holds his head, chin slightly raised. Everything about Laurent calls out to him, and something begins to tug at his stomach, and his pulse quickens. As far as Damen can tell Laurent’s not wearing a collar, but all the buttons of his shirt are tightly closed, so Damen can’t say for sure. 

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “I do.” He’s surprised at how hoarse his voice already sounds, how rich it is already with desire.

Nikandros chuckles. He’s heard it as well. “Thought you would.” 

“Did Makedon say if he’s—”

“Nope,” Nikandros cuts in, draining his glass and turning around to signal the bartender for another round. “Didn’t know. But I’m sure you’ll find out for yourself pretty soon.” He hands Damen his fresh drink and tilts his head, grinning. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Damen says, taking the glass from Nikandros’s hand. He pushes himself away from the bar, straightens his back and squares his shoulders. “I—”

That exact moment, Laurent turns his head a little to the left and looks Damen straight in the eyes. Just for a second or two, not too long. It’s a very calculated look, and even though part of Damen feels provoked by it, the other part is intrigued. Maybe not _even though_ , maybe exactly _because of_ that.

Damen’s stomach drops, and his chest feels too tight for a moment, and even when Laurent’s eyes move on to Nikandros and even further along the bar, it seems as if it’s too warm in here. Damen can feel himself react to that brief look, his body beginning to hum with the challenge that Laurent has so obviously issued. 

He raises his chin and makes his way across the room through the crowd on the dance floor with slow, determined steps. He makes his way through leather and naked skin, sweat and smoke and alcohol, pulsing beats and grinding sexual tension. Laurent is standing next to two men Damen vaguely knows, Jord and Aimeric.

Aimeric has been wearing Jord’s collar for a little over a year now, and they’re rumored to be 24/7. Jord is clad in a tight black leather uniform and a black leather cap, and Aimeric is gracefully, yet demurely kneeling beside him, wearing nothing more than a leather loin cloth and his collar with a leash attached to it. 

Damen nods at Jord and grins. As if on cue, Jord’s grip on the leash in his hand tightens, and his other hand finds his way into Aimeric’s curls. Damen’s grin broadens. He can feel pride and possessiveness streaming from Jord, owner’s pride, and he thinks that what he and Aimeric seem to have going on between them must be a good thing, and that it really becomes them.

He closes the distance and steps into Laurent’s personal space, well aware of the effect his body is probably going to have on Laurent. He knows that he’s radiating confidence, power, strength. His chest harness is brand new, the finest quality, and his leather pants hug his muscles just the way they should. When Laurent drops his gaze, Damen can see a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. So he likes the boots Damen is wearing as well.

Leaning in, Damen licks his lips. 

“Hello, Laurent,” he says, and the slight shiver that runs through Laurent makes Damen’s cock twitch in his pants. “I’m Damen.”

“I know,” Laurent says, briefly looking up and locking eyes with Damen for a spilt second before he breaks eye contact again and casts his eyes downward once more, a well calculated strategic move. “I know who you are.”

He’s good, Damen thinks. He’s good at this. Really good.

“Are you here with anyone?”

Laurent shakes his head, his eyes still cast downward. “No. No, I’m not.”

Damen nods. Moment of truth, he thinks, and he decides to put all of his eggs in one basket, so to speak. It’s all or nothing now, so he decides to go in full force.

“Look at me.”

Laurent blushes a slightly deeper shade of pink at that, his cheeks on the verge of burning. Images flash before Damen’s eyes, white immaculate skin, and then red welts, dark bruises, maybe even blood. His heart misses a beat. He has never thought about blood before, not like this, but now he can’t get that image out of his mind. 

And then, Laurent looks up again, his eyes wide and his body wired with tension underneath his purposefully relaxed pose.

Damen nods and reaches out to cup Laurent’s face. He runs his thumb over Laurent’s hot cheekbone and then over his lips, which are soft and pliant, and the lower one even sticks to the skin of his thumb a little when he strokes over it, the ultimate turn-on in his book. 

“Laurent. I know somewhere we can go. Somewhere we can… explore this… in private.” He lets his words drag a little, giving them time to unfold their full effect upon Laurent. They are potent, and Laurent’s carefully restrained, yet obvious reactions are intoxicating: the faint shiver that runs through him, the flutter of his lashes against his skin, the way he bites his lips. “Don’t do that,” Damen says, running his thumb over Laurent’s lips again, and Laurent immediately obeys. “Follow me.”

He withdraws his hand and reaches into his pocket, closing his fingers around the key he’s carrying in there. It’s the key to one of the club’s coveted private rooms, and he’s had it for almost a year now. 

Crossing the dance floor in the other direction this time, Damen doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to, he simply knows that Laurent is no more than two steps behind him, pliant lips and burning cheeks, and his cock hardens in his pants in anticipation. Laurent is exquisite, and this is going to be so very, very good.

The private rooms are behind the second bar in the back of the club, down a flight of steel stairs and into a long hallway. Down here, the sounds from the dance floor have faded a little but they haven’t entirely disappeared. The beat is still there, and it’s electrifying in its own way.

Damen’s hands are sure and steady as he unlocks the door to Room “Marlas”, the room he’s had the key to for almost a year now but that he’s never been so eager to use. As always, he frowns a little at the club’s owner’s tradition of naming the rooms and suites after sights of long past historic battles. He holds the door open and lets Laurent step inside.

“Okay,” Damen says, locking the door behind them and placing the key on a small dresser right next to it. When he turns around again, Laurent hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there, three steps into the room, his body, his posture and the challenge he radiates calling out to Damen in a way he has never experienced before. 

Damen swallows. He can already feel how deep this scene is going to go, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a dangerous thing, a first scene being that intense, and for a fraction of a second Damen feels something else, something he hasn’t felt in years. Fear.

“Turn around and look at me,” he says after a couple of deep, calming breaths, and Laurent complies immediately, his movements slow and deliberate. Damen is ready.

Another series of images floods Damen’s vision in quick succession, even clearer this time than earlier upstairs: pale skin, red welts, dark bruises; his hand closing around elegant wrists, around a delicate white throat; a straining cock, desperate for release, denied; a black collar around a marble neck, and Laurent, gracefully kneeling for him, his face devastatingly serene and the last remainder of defiance leaving his carefully averted eyes; a thin line of red on taut skin. Submission. Damen’s heart swells with pride, and he swallows again around the promise in his throat. 

“Tell me what you’re willing to let me do to you,” he says.

After a short pause, Laurent opens his lips, and with a calm and steady voice he begins to speak.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](https://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr - come and say "Hi!"!


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